


He Ate My Heart

by chimeradragon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Mates, Soulmates, Werewolf Derek, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Stiles Stilinski, Zombies, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1609832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimeradragon/pseuds/chimeradragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll always take care of you."</p><p>A Zombie AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Derek cried out as blunt teeth dug into the meat of his forearm and tore a chunk free. He managed to keep from instinctively burying his claws into the head that was bowed over his arm. He sucked in several deep breaths as his eyes flashed bright blue.

As soon as the werewolf had managed to calm his instincts he looked down at the short brown hair of the creature that was slowly chewing on a piece of his arm. He let his uninjured arm come up so he could card his fingers through the soft hair.

Brilliant amber eyes looked up, a flash of intelligence and care as the piece of flesh was swallowed.

"Don't worry, " Derek said softly as he continued to card his fingers through the zombie's hair. "I'll always take care of you, Stiles."


	2. Chapter 1

"Der'k?"

Derek looked up from where he was holding his arm, at the sound of the scratchy, confused voice. "I'm here and I'm healing, " Derek replied, trying to soothe Stiles as the teen used shaky hands to wipe the blood off his face.

"You... I..." Stiles' amber eyes widened as he stared at the bite on Derek's arm. He shuddered as he thought about why there was a healing bite on the werewolf. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his 'meal' down.

"Yes, Stiles, " Derek said, and his tone offered no room for argument. "I let you feed from me. I have the best ... control. And we can't let you get mindless again. It was hard enough on everyone when we found you."

Stiles shivered at the memory as his mind settled back into place. His memories had gotten a little foggy the hungrier he got but 'food' made him stable. He looked up at Derek and sighed. "I'm sorry. "

Derek rolled his eyes. Hard. "It's not your fault this happened. I should ... I should have protected you better."

Stiles wiped his hand on his jeans for a second before he laid his hand on Derek's arm. "Hey! You did everything you could. And I'm still here ... More or less, " Stiles waved a dismissive hand as he leaned into Derek's side and felt the warmth start to seep into him. 

Derek sighed and leaned into the contact. "I know. But I don't think either of us know how to not take the blame," he replied with a small, lopsided smile. He let his chin rest on Stiles' head for a few moments before he shook himself and moved to stand.

"What's the plan? " Stiles asked as he took the hand Derek held out to him.

"We've got to go see Scott and the others. They went out yesterday to find out how the research has been going," Derek replied quietly.

"Do you think they'll have good news? " Stiles asked, trying to sound hopeful.

Derek couldn't help but shrug at the question. He honestly didn't know and he'd let his hopes get up too many times. "I hope so ... but I wouldn't want speculate."

Stiles bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "Yeah ..."

Derek raised an eyebrow as he looked over at the teen next to him. "How's your memory?"

"Doing fine now," Stiles replied thoughtfully. "And it's getting easier to remember everything that's been going on. This sucks."

Derek bumped his shoulder against Stiles' as he tilted his head in question.

"Being ..." Stiles huffed as he made a vague gesture toward himself. "Being ... this. A zombie."

Derek growled lowly at the comment. He clenched his hands to keep from doing anything else.

"It's okay," Stiles tried to soothe the wolf. "I've come to terms with what I am for the time being. They're working on a cure. So .. we just have to - to keep up the ..."

Derek raised an incredulous eyebrow.

Stiles huffed. "I know. But it's not gonna make me feel any better about the 'feeding' schedule." He used air quotes. "Or the fact that I ... I have to ... you know," he stumbled to a halt, uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Derek huffed out another sigh and leaned in to rub against Stiles again. "I don't mind. I'm the one that was supposed to protect you. And I failed. And ... I want to do this for you. I ..." He paused as emotion choked the words.

Stiles fave a small smile and nodded. "I love you too," he said as he leaned in to give Derek a quick kiss on the cheek.

Derek turned his head to brush his lips against Stiles' before he leaned back a little bit. "I do love you. I - I just..."

"Suffer from a severe case of emotional constipation, " Stiles finished for him. He gave a knowing smile as he pulled back so they could head back inside where the others would be waiting.

The two of them walked in companionable silence to the door.

"Scott," Derek called, his voice easily carried through the door. "We're done now. You can let us back in."

Scott's face appeared in the small gap in the door as he looked out to confirm. He gave a weary nod and opened the door the rest of the way. "So... it went okay?"

Derek gave a terse nod as he stepped inside with Stiles right behind him. "How's the research coming?"

Scott rolled his shoulder in a half shrug as he moved to lock the door behind Derek and Stiles. He looked tired with dark circles under his eyes. "Don't know. I didn't want to ask."

Derek nodded and led Stiles downstairs. "We have to go get you looked at," he said softly.

Stiles sighed but followed without hesitation. 

"Good to see you're both back," Deaton said serenely as he looked up from the notes before him. He had a pen loosely held in his hand and a cup of tea nearby. "How did it go?"

Derek held his arm out and showed the fully healed skin. "It went fine. And he's lucid," he said as he watched Deaton write something in his notes.

"And you, Stiles? " Deaton asked with a raised eyebrow. "How much do you remember from your ... time between meals?"

Stiles frowned but actually took a moment to think. "I just remember the hunger and everything was ..." he swirled his hand through the air. "It was blurry? I know I could see but it was more... I dunno. Food or not food? I guess that's the best way to put it."

Deaton gave a tiny, tight lipped smile. "Very good. Scott and the others managed to get word to a few other emissaries and we're sharing information. I have something new to try. Its a collaboration with the others. If you're feeling up to it."

Stiles sighed as he looked at the intimidating concoction that was bubbling away. The smell wafted over to him and assaulted his nose, making him feel like he wanted to either gag or puke.

"That smells weirdly sweet," Derek commented as he took a tentative sniff.

Stiles looked at the werewolf like he'd lost his mind. "It smells horrible to me..." he countered even as he brought his shirt up to cover his nose.

"Interesting," Deaton hummed thoughtfully as he took down more notes. "It is designed to kill the zombie virus in you. The virus could make this smell bad in order to protect itself."

Stiles shuddered at the thought of having to drink it. "And you want me to try and drink that stuff?"

"Not much. Just a tiny sip. And then I want to know how you're feeling. Hopefully we're getting close to a cure," Deaton replied with a small, but hopeful smile as he held out a small vial with a dose of the 'cure'. It was a strange green substance interlaced with a purple streak. It swirled slowly in the vial.

"I don't know about this," Stiles said slowly as he looked at the vial the same way most people would look at a rearing cobra. He watched the stuff swirl for a moment before taking a deep breath and throwing the whole thing back.

Deaton watched the teen intently with a pen in hand, ready to take notes.

Stiles shivered briefly before his body fell deathly still. "That wasn't too..." he froze mid-sentance and grabbed his middle in agony as a tortured sound was ripped from his throat and his knees hit the ground with a nasty thunk. 

Derek dropped to his knees beside Stiles, eyes full of worry. "Stiles? Are you okay? Stiles!"

Stiles groaned as his eyes clouded over and he paled further. His hands dropped from around his middle to brace against the floor. He growled lowly as his hands clawed at the ground.

Derek looked up at Deaton with a look somewhere between pissed and worried. "What's going on? What can we do to help him?"

Deaton frowned and shook his head. "We just have to wait. Just remember that he volunteered for this. And we have to hope for the best."

Stiles snarled and lunged forward teeth snapping as drool escaped from his lips.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, that's an unexpected result," Deaton said thoughtfully as he backed up the stairs.
> 
> "Go," Derek said, tone quiet but firm. He let Stiles lean into him again.

Stiles snarled and lunged at Deaton, drool and spittle escaping from his snapping jaws.

Derek managed to catch the teen and haul him back just in time for the vet to scramble away. "STILES!" Derek said sharply.

Stiles blinked and snarled at Deaton again before rubbing his head against Derek and putting himself between the wolf and the Emissary. He seemed beyond words for the moment.

Derek blinked in confusion even as he unconsciously leaned into the contact with Stiles. He made a sound, low in his throat as he moved to put his hand on the other's shoulder. "Stiles?" He asked softly.

Stiles groaned quietly and repeated the nudge before snarling at Deaton again and making an abortive attack that was just barely held back by Derek.

"Well, that's an unexpected result," Deaton said thoughtfully as he backed up the stairs.

"Go," Derek said, tone quiet but firm. He let Stiles lean into him again.

"I'm going to let the others know what's going on," Deaton replied thoughtfully as he made his way up the last few stairs and shut the door with a gentle sound.

Stiles seemed to calm as soon as Deaton's scent was gone from the room. He leaned into Derek with a snarled huff and his seemingly sightless eyes constantly scanned the room for any sign of danger.

Derek sighed softly and let his arms rest on Stiles' shoulders. He let his body heat warm the other as he thought about what had just happened. And if he could come up with anything to make the other man better. But it seemed as though Stiles was reacting to a perceived threat to his Mate. Just like a wolf would. But Stiles had never been bitten by a werewolf which made that theory unlikely.

"D'rk, " Stiles growled, voice low and scratchy as he blinked his slowly clearing eyes.

Derek squeezed slightly to reassure Stiles that he was still with him. "I'm here," he murmured soft and soothing.

Stiles made a noise and leaned into Derek. He closed his eyes for a moment before nodding. "Mine," he growled, the word fairly garbled but still recognizable. His fingers held the wolf close and hard.

"Stiles?" Derek said softly after a few minutes of silence. He gave a gentle nudge to the other.

Stiles grumbled and his head came up to nudge against Derek. "D'rk. M'ne."

Derek huffed softly in mild frustration. "Yes. I'm yours. And you're mine."

Stiles made a satisfied noise at the statement and curled against Derek again.

"Can you understand me again?"

Stiles made an unhappy noise as he rolled his eyes a bit, but nodded in the end.

"What was that about?" Derek asked as he gestured towards where Deaton had made his very hasty exit.

"Thr...et," Stiles managed to ground out. He seemed to be a little more in control and cognizant of what was going on around him. "Bad smell."

Derek cocked his head in thought as he realized what Stiles must have caught on to when the vet had been down in basement with them. The mysterious druid had been working with and mixing various kinds of herbs for days and weeks to figure out how to keep the other zombies from entering the compound they'd made. He'd also been work on a way to get rid of the Zombie virus. Those kinds of scents had probably seeped into his skin so throughly that he'd smell bad to Stiles. It made perfect sense to the werewolf.

"Gone now," Stiles added as he wrapped an arm around Derek. "Keep. Mate. Safe."

The wolf couldn't keep the smile from his face as he nodded. "Yes. You keep me very safe," he said softly as he carded his fingers through the other's soft brown hair.

Stiles huffed and nodded as he leaned into Derek's side once more, content to just be for the moment. Everything else could be dealt with later.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "D'rk," Stiles replied, voice still more of a growl than words but calmer than before. "M'ne."

A soft knock sounded on the door to the basement and Stiles' head snapped up as he let out a low warning growl as he pushed Derek behind himself.

"Stiles? Derek? Are you okay in there?" Scott's voice called uncertainly through the door. Loud enough for Derek to make out what he was saying clearly, but still relatively quiet.

Stiles gave a low growl and snarl at the sound, pushing Derek behind himself again. He tilted his head as he listened for more movement or threats. When Scott only pressed a hand to the door and listened, Stiles stilled once more.

"We're fine, Scott," Derek called after a moment. He placed a restraining hand on Stiles' shoulder to let the other know there wasn't a reason to worry. That his mate was safe. "I'm fine," he added, voice low and just for Stiles.

Stiles stopped snarling and gave a final warning growl at the door before he leaned into Derek again. His expression softened as he leaned against the older man. He huffed out a sigh of contentment as Derek's fingers carded through his hair again.

"Deaton wanted me to ask how Stiles is now," Scott called again, voice still careful.

Stiles rumbled again but seemed calmer with Scott not making any movement behind the door. "M'ne," he growled into Derek's hair as he rubbed his face against the other.

"Yes, Stiles," Derek soothed. He rubbed his scruff against Stiles to help spread his scent. "He's still out of it," he added as he raised his voice to make it easier for Scott to hear. "But I wouldn't recommend anyone else trying to get down here with us... he's very protective ."

"Protective?" Scott called back questioningly.

"Of me," Derek clarified. He smiled at Stiles affectionately as he let his fingers card through the teen's short brown hair. Stiles made an approving noise as he nuzzled into the wolf's warmth with only a minor noise of discontent at the sound of Scott's voice. 

"Okay. I'll let Deaton know... just call if you need anything," Scott replied, voice hesitating as he started to move away from the door. Derek could tell the other wolf's instincts were telling him to stay and help his best friend/brother even though he rationally knew that wouldn't help anything. His footsteps slowly faded away. 

"There, he's gone," Derek soothed, voice low and calm. He moved them over to the couch in the corner of the basement and guided Stiles to sit with him. "We're just gonna sit here and relax until you're feeling more like yourself. And I know that with you... that won't take too long. Right, Stiles?" 

Stiles looked up, eyes still slightly cloudy as though there was a slight film over them. Almost as though he had cataracts. He leaned against Derek, posture fully trusting as he nuzzled and sighed into the warmth offered by the wolf. 

"Stiles?" Derek asked as he got comfortable. 

"D'rk," Stiles replied, voice still more of a growl than words but calmer than before. "M'ne."

"Yes, I'm yours. But do you understand me?" Derek asked as his eyebrows drew together. 

Stiles nodded as his own eyebrows drew together in confusion. 

"Okay. But you're still having trouble with words?" Derek insisted as his hands went back to their mindless carding. He enjoyed the feeling of Stiles' soft hair sliding between and under his fingers. 

"Yes," Stiles hissed out, ending on a moan of pleasure as the fingers moved down to the base of his skull. His slightly milky eyes rolled back in pleasure. He nuzzled into the strong chest before him for a moment before he laid his head down and closed his eyes, as close to sleep as any zombie had been know to get. 

Derek let his own eyes close as he drifted, mind and body exhausted by the day's events. he didn't know what else he could to help Stiles. He felt the nearly overwhelming hopelessness trying to consume him as he drifted off to sleep. 

TBC...


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this posted. I've been working hard on this story and trying to get at least a few chapers ahead. It's been a rough couple of months but I should be able to get some more reular posts in. Hope you enjoy!

Screaming.

Smoke and flames.

Rotting flesh.

Derek awoke with a gasp, his heart raced as he tried to throw aside the nightmare that tried to grip him and pull him back under. He shivered as he felt the phantom fingers of fire licking at his skin. He opened his mouth to howl but the sound was stuck in the back of his throat as he sprang awake to the sound of angry snarling.

Stiles was snarling and spitting as he crouched low over Derek's prone form.

Derek blinked in confusion when he realized he was on the floor and partially shifted. He pulled his claws in as he gently touhed Stiles' sides and hushed him. "Hey, I'm okay. It was just a nightmare. We're okay. You can relax," he tried to soothe.

"D'RK!" Stiles snarled, teeth gnashing in the air. His fingers were curled into claws of his own and his whole body vibrated with barely supressed tension.

"Here," Derek said, voice louder and harsher as he tried to draw Stiles' attention. He growled as he realized that it wasn't working and he shoved on Stiles' chest but was shocked when the teen stayed crouched over him.

"Derek?!" Scott's voice came down the stairs as he jumped down to see what was wrong.

"Scott, no!" Derek called as he reached a hand out as though he could stop the True Alpha before he could reach the bottom of the stairs.

Scott looked up just in time to recieve a Stiles to the face. He cried out as blunt, human teeth dug into his shoulder.

Derek got back to his feet and scrambled to get between the combatants. He pressed himself between Scott and Stiles, but was pushed away a few seconds later.

"Stiles! Stop!" Derek roared as he jumped and landed heavily on the wiry teen's back. He wrapped his arms around the younger man's torso and squeezed, hoping to garner the other's attention through the application of pressure and brute strength.

Stiles snarled and pulled back, teeth still clamped down on Scott's shoulder. He pulled the chunk of flesh free, swallowed and reared back for another attack but when his teeth made contact with Derek's arm he whined and let go. Only a little bit of blood escaping from the born wolf's arm.

"It's okay, Stiles," Derek said with a wince as he felt blunt teeth pull out of his arm. He rubbed his chin against Stiles' head and neck, scenting him to let him know he didn't care about what had just happened. "We're okay."

Stiles slowly let go of Scott, teeth still bared at the Alpha. "M'ne," he snarled as he pushed Derek behind him again.

"Stiles," Scott tried too soothe as he pressed a hand to his bleeding shoulder. "I don't want Derek. He's your Mate. Not mine." He spoke slowly and backed away from Stiles and Derek with his hand up.

Stiles stared at Scott for a few moments, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

"I was just worried about both of you when I heard strange noises," Scott added as his back hit the wall and he was able to fully stand up again.

"S'rry," Stiles growled. He didn't come closer to Scott but he did look sorry for biting him.

"It's okay," Scott reassured him. "I knew it was dangerous for me to come down here while you two were resting. But I came because I care. You're my family."

Stiles made a strange, almost wounded noise in the back of his throat. His hands held onto Derek but his face said he wanted to go to Scott too.

"Don't worry, bud. We're gonna figure this out and get you back to normal," Scott assured Stiles as his shoulder stopped bleeding. "After all, you've got Derek and me. And the others. We'll get you through this."

Stiles nodded, eyes starting to clear a bit. He leaned against Derek as his mind seemed to reset. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his mind. "...'m s'rry..." he mumbled.

Scott grinned and shook his head. "It's okay. I'm just glad it was me instead of one of the others. I heal faster than they do," he said. He pulled his hand away from his shoulder and shrugged at the amount of blood that was running down his arm. "And if it helped you out of ... whatever happened when you tried the new drug? I'm okay with that. It hurt, but you're okay and I'm okay."

Stiles nodded again. "Good. B'tter now..." his words were starting to sound clearer.

"Maybe it was a combination of time and another feeding?" Derek asked. "We should tell Deaton."

Scott opened his mouth to reply when the door to the basement was kicked open violently.

"Kill the zombie!" a voice shouted.

TBC ...


	6. Chapter 5

"Kill the zombie!" a voice shouted.

Derek shoved Stiles to the floor through sheer weight and surprise as the teen tried to get his mind working again.

Shots were fired and Derek grunted with each impact but he refused to move from his place on top of Stiles. He made doubly sure that Stiles' head was protected from the worst of the onslaught.

"Stop!" Scott's voice commanded, his eyes glowed red and his tone reverberated with the threat of an Alpha werewolf. "We're not the enemy!"

"You're not, but that ... thing is," the man replied as he reloaded his now empty magazine. He wore dark, stained and ripped, clothing and had the look of someone that didn't have anything left to lose. "We have to get rid of all of them or we'll never be free."

"If you shoot at us again, we'll be forced to attack," Scott replied, tone sightly calm but full of menace as he unsheathed his claws and showed his fangs along with the glowing red eyes.

"You don't scare me, werewolf," the man replied even as his eyes tracked Derek dragging Stiles behind the couch despite the teen's renewed agression. He let himself be led but he still growled at the intruders. "Why you've got a zombie down here, and are protecting it... I don't know. And frankly? I don't give a damn. It has to die. Just like all of the others. We have to keep the living safe.

"We're working on a cure," Scott replied, fangs and claws still out.

"And that's just a pipe dream kid," the man replied with a long suffering sigh. "Just something to help those that are bitten. A hope that it won't have to end like all the others. But it will. They've been bitten and become mindless and have to be shot."

Derek stood from behind the couch, still blocking any shots that could be taken at Stiles. "He's not mindless."

"So why did he attack your Alpha?" the man retorted as he tried to get a clear line of sight. He didn't even look surprised as the bullet wounds on Derek pushed out the lead and healed.

"He told you, we're working on a cure. This one didn't go well and had some nasty side effects. We had to feed him to get him back to normal," Derek replied as though the man on the staris was an idiot. "How else are we supposed to know if it works than to actually use it on one of the undead?"

"I prefer the term living impared, if you don't mind," Stiles called from behind the couch. He stayed hidden, and his voice was scratchy like he'd been screaming, but he sounded lucid. If a little tired. 

Derek let his hand drift down and behind himself to squeeze Stiles' hand reassuringly. "See? That's the 'zombie' you came looking for. He's lucid and doesn't attack people unless he's attacked first. So, leave. Or you'll have to deal with me."

"You don't scare me," the man on the stairs replied. "I've dealt with werewolves before. Let us kill the zombie and you can find another to play with and experiment on. I won't leave until it's dead for good."

"Have you ever dealt with a berserker werewolf?" Derek asked, tone almost polite.

"No. Why?" the man asked.

"Because if you kill my Mate, I will go berserk and kill you. Painfully," Derek replied as though it was the most simple and logical thing in the world.

"You had ... sex ... with ... that?" the man recoiled and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Do you mean I made love to him? Yes. When he was still fully human. But we've been busy since he was bitten. Trying to cure him. Now leave... please," Derek answered. His eyes had started to glow blue at the threat to his Mate, and his claws were threatening to come out of his fingers. "I won't have an issue killing you if you threaten my Pack, or my Mate, again."

The man on the stairs looked over the scene before him. "I still won't leave until I've killed every zombie I've come across," he said after several moments of tense silence. "I don't really care who it was."

"I'm still a person," Stiles called from behind the couch. He didn't move or reveal himself, just held his free hand up and waved briefly.

The man on the stairs wavered a little and his gun dipped down. "You're gonna put .... him down if you can't find a cure?" He asked after several false starts at the question.

"I'd end myself if we knew for certain there was no hope," Stiles replied, tone completely serious. He let his hand fall back down to his side, arm tired from being held above his head. "I'm petty sure we're getting close to a cure, though...that's just my honest opinion."

"How is..." the man on the starts started. He paused as he realized that wasn't the right way to start the question. "How are you so coherent?"

Stiles shrugged before replying. "I don't know. Maybe because I had something important to hold onto?"

The man looked contemplative for a few moments before he shook his head. "Okay," he said after a few minutes of silence. "I should probably get going. Just... don't let him bite anyone." He said after a few akward momsnts of silence before shaking his head and heading for the stairs.

"Shouldn't you guys stop him or something?" Stiles asked, voice meeker than usual. He looked up at Derek who was pulling a few of the slugs that were still embeded in his body.

Derek shook his head and pulled the last bullet out with a grunt.

"We should just let him go. If he's this surprised by you, then he probably hasn't seen any others like you, Stiles," Scott replied as he walked closer and offered a hand to Derek and Stiles. "He'll thin the herds a bit, and that will end up helping us out in the end."

"Whatever you say... you're the Alpha," Stiles replied as he felt himself pulled up. He felt only a slight twinge as he saw Scott's hand on Derek. He pushed the urge to growl down and focused on the fact that he was feeling more like himself than he had hours and that was a relief.

"I'm just glad you're back with us, and that he didn't manage to shoot you," Scott said as he ignored the jab about being the Alpha.

TBC . . .


	7. Chapter 6

"Something else?" Stiles felt a growl in the back of his throat. The last time he'd tried something new from Deaton he'd nearly torn Scott apart and that wasn't something he was looking forward to repeating anytime in the near future. 

Deaton nodded placidly. "Not a big change. And I just want you to smell this for now. Maybe try a drop on your tongue? That way, if we have a negative response... it won't be so severe."

Stiles gave a faint growl at the memory of being so ... lost and out of control with the last concoction he'd tried. He'd honestly felt like the could have torn Scott apart at the mere thought of his best friend being near his Mate. The possibility of Scott trying to take Derek away from him made him seethe even though he knew; in his heart, that Scott would never try anything like that. Never. Not with Derek or any other man for that matter. He was so in love with Allison there was no one else in the world that the Alpha had eyes for other than his own Mate. But that didn't seem to stop the thoughts that had torn through Stiles' mind as he'd faced off with Scott on the stairs. 

"Stiles?" Derek's voice called, a little uncertain sounding. Almost hesitant. 

With a mental shake, Stiles turned back to Derek, trying to keep stray thoughts out of his mind as he turned to his other half. "I'm sorry," he said softly, trying to convey the sincerity of the statement. "I don't know where my mind wandered off to this time." He laughed a little as he rubbed the short hair on the back of his head. 

"I was just checking on you. I worry sometimes," Derek replied as he took a step back and shook his own head. 

"I'm fine. I guess," Stiles replied with a shrug. "My mind is still a little foggy." 

Derek didn't buy the excuse, but he let it slide. He didn't want to argue with Stiles when he was being asked to put himself on the line, again. And so soon after the last failure. 

"If you don't want to do this now, we don't have to," Deaton was quick to add. "It's your decision. I don't want you to feel like you have to do something. I have a few variations that I can try on some of the ... others outside the walls." 

Stiles sighed heavily as he waved to Deaton and steadied himself. "Just let me try before I change my mind for the better," he said with a long-suffering sigh.

Deaton didn't smile, but he did look pleased with Stiles' response. "Thank you," he added pleasantly.

Stiles grumbled but kept himself from growling. Just barely. He walked over to the vial Deaton was holding. He gave it a wary look. This time it looked like green tinged mud, swirling slowly in the clear container. 

"You just have to tell me how it smells for now. We can work on more than that if you're feeling up to it," Deaton added, voice smooth and unhurried. He looked as though he had all the time in the world.

"Let me smell this thing...I can't believe those words just came out of my mouth," Stiles grumbled with a sour look on his face. He took the vial slowly from Deaton, trying to brace himself for the foul odor he was sure he'd experience. It looked like something that would eat through the glass at any moment. He took a few breaths away from the vial, trying to remember that he didn't have to actually ingest the 'liquid' if he didn't want to, though he was feeling like it was generous to call the substance in the vial a liquid. 

"You can do this later if you want," Derek offered, trying to be helpful. 

"Yeah, but if I don't do it now then I'll find a way to make an excuse every time that it comes up. It's best if I do it now while I have the will do take care of it," Stiles replied with a grateful smile to his boyfriend. He loved the man before him and was grateful for everything the other did for him. "You're the best. You know that, right?"

Derek gave him a soft, handsome smile and nodded. "You tell me often enough, I think it's starting to sink in."

"Good!" Stiles grinned and laughed a little. He could feel himself trying to delay further. He really didn't want to take a chance that something bad would happen but he knew he had to bite the bullet at some point. It wouldn't do to try and make someone else take the chance with this stuff. He needed to be the one to do the task. he felt it was part of his responsibility to the rest of humanity to try. For those that had been bitten. They needed to have that scrap of hope. That being bitten wouldn't be the end of the line for them. 

"Take your time," Deaton offered as he backed away, making sure that Stiles was between everyone and Derek. The born wolf was in the most easily defended part of the room. The hope was that if something did go wrong that Stiles' instincts would be to take care of Derek rather than attack the others. It had been the way he'd responded the last time. 

Stiles took one last steadying breath before he took a whiff of the vial. He paused, confused. The liquid looked horrible, moved almost unnaturally, but didn't smell bad. It was almost pleasant. "Like, wet dirt. You know... when it rains? A little musty, but not too bad," he said after a few sniffs. "Maybe a hint of old ... house? Something that hasn't had much circulation in a while."

"Interesting," Deaton replied as he took a few notes on a pad of paper he had in one hand. 

"Okay... so, that wasn't too bad," Stiles said, trying to sound certain of himself. "Let's try a drop on my tongue. Do you have a dropper?"

"I do," Deaton replied. "I'll go get it. But only if you're certain."

"You know, if you keep asking me that... I won't be so certain," Stiles replied wryly. He huffed out a laugh as he handed the vial over and leaned into Derek's embrace. 

"Thank you for not giving up hope," Derek murmured into Stiles' hair. He smiled softly, happy to have his Mate with him.

"You're hard to give up hope around," Stiles replied. "You lost a lot when you were younger and you still keep going. It's only fair to try and match that level of commitment."

"You're good for my ego," Derek laughed. 

Stiles sighed softly with a hint of a smile on his face and just enjoyed their moment together. 

TBC ...


	8. Chapter 7

It didn't start the way everyone had expected. 

No sudden infestation. But nothing subtle.

It was somewhere in the middle. Like a friend in a Halloween costume walking up to you out of the corner of your eye. It doesn't really register that they're coming with the intention of trying to scare you. You know where they are, but you just let it slide. 

Until there was a rotting hand on your shoulder trying to pull you towards gnashing teeth that wanted to tear your flesh apart. Then you scream. 

That's how the end of the world happened. At least in the sleepy little town of Beacon Hills. California. Where the sun shines and Hollywood exists. A land of movie stars and producers. Good and bad. 

But no one had suspected it would be quite, this bad. Everyone thought they had a plan. A way out. That they had survival in the bag. And everyone of them was wrong. The government had tried to keep everything in line, and it all still all went to hell. In a hand-basket. A very loud and hungry handbasket. 

People had tried to brush it off as some sort of scare. An outbreak of something much less harmful. 

They'd been wrong. So wrong that the infection had spread at an unprecedented rate. Those that had been half-heartedly preparing for just such an event were overwhelmed by the reality of the situation they'd found themselves in. And they'd found out pretty quickly that they weren't nearly as prepared as they'd originally thought they were. Most had holed up and refused to see anyone if they could avoid it. They're supplies dried up rather quickly when they realized that most of the automated systems that fed water, electricity, and communication to the massed needed humans to keep them going. 

It hadn't happened all at once. First the communications towers for cell phones had gone down first. They'd come back sporadically, but it never lasted more than a few hours. Those with land-lines had been able to keep in touch with loved ones longer. But sadly, most didn't have a line of communication that was buried several feet under the earth. Once that was down people had turned to the Internet. That lasted slightly longer but server rooms needed maintenance. Websites need people to update them and the fear most felt just fed into the paranoia online. 

After that water and electricity became spotty. The government tried to keep things going as long as they could. Figuring on the ingenuity of the people to be able to take care of themselves if they had power and water. That was a sad miscalculation by those in charge. Many panicked so badly they overloaded the power grids and destroyed them. One blown fuse at a time. The water lasted only a few days beyond the power failures since the entire system ran on electricity. 

With society cut off from each other... no power or electricity ... and no one to turn to for help or guidance?

Chaos ensued. 

People rioted and looted in bigger cities. 

However, in smaller cities and towns the story was not so bleak. There was hope. Many had their own power stations because of their distance from a larger city. They had their own gas and electricity. So the decline was much slower and not quite a panic fuled as in other places. They found that they were able to gather people together and manage the resources on hand. 

In Beacon Hills it was even better. The towns people were a little more used to weird things happening. With the existence of werewolves, witches, banshees and the Nameton in the woods. Even those people that weren't in the loop with siuch occurrences were better acclamation to the unusual. When the Sheriff of their town told the people to try and remain calm. That they would likely lose power, water, and communication with the outside world. Most listened. They weren't such a small town that everyone listened. Those people caused problems, but they were more manageable. 

It was when the people from larger areas came looking for refuge from the craziness of the world, arrived. 

That's when the carefully constructed lines of communication. The supply locations. Hospitals. Everything broke down. 

After all ... it only took one infected to start the insanity all over again in a new location. 

TBC ...


	9. Chapter 8

Stiles shivered as the drop hit his tongue. It didn't truly have a taste. More of a feeling and scent. His stomach clenched but nothing else fore several minutes.

"How was it?" Derek asked, voice full of trepidation. He wanted to believe that the cure would work this time. That they wouldn't have a bad reaction and that Stiles could be himself again. He wanted it more than he knew it was possible to want something other than your Mate as a wolf. He let his eyes wander over Stiles' pale form, looking for signs of a change. Good or bad.

Stiles felt a little bit of sweat bead up on his forehead and shook himself. "I don't think it's too ba-..." he stopped suddenly as pain ripped through his stomach. His eyes grew milky as he started to lose his focus. He could smell Derek in front of him, his Mate. HIS. MATE. But something was wrong.

Stiles tried to focus. To bring his mind back on track, but the pain tore through his body again. He roared and knocked Derek to the ground, crouched over the wolf as he snarled. His instincts were telling him to protect what was his, but his mind was trying to tell him that Derek was okay. That he could take care of himself. But his instincts wouldn't listen.

Derek's head impacted with the ground just hard enough to make stars appear before his eyes and he groaned. "Stiles," he murmured. "I'm okay... relax...." his voice faded off as he heard the roar from Stiles again. The sound was primal and full of fury. Derek merely lifted a hand and let it rest against Stiles' chest, comforting the other in the only way he knew had a chance of working.

Stiles snarled again, menacing the room around him as another pang of pain moved through him. Luckily the pain was less intense this time. Giving him a chance to breathe and start to wrap his head around what was truly going on. He leaned into the hand on his chest, body starting to go lax as Derek's scent finally got through to him. He growled lowly and nuzzled into the warmth of the man below him.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, voice a little softer than normal.

"Hm," Stiles hummed in the affirmative. "Mine."

"Yes, I'm yours. Are you still you? Just... aggressive?"

Stiles made an unhappy, grumbling, noise for a moment before nodding. "Hurt."

"The solution hurt?" Derek asked, trying to retain the train of thought he'd had before being slammed into the wall.

"Stomach," Stiles managed as he nuzzled into Derek as the pain in his abdomen faded away again. "Like ... the flu."

"Ah, we'll have to be sure to tell Deaton, when you're feeling up to having company again," Derek replied thoughtfully. He was grateful for his werewolf healing as the throbbing in his head was nearly gone already and he was feeling more himself, and less concussed.

"Yes," Stiles breathed into the wolf's neck with a sigh of contentment. His mind was starting to clear as the aggression bled away. "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Derek shook his head slowly. "Not really. I just knocked my head against the floor a bit when I landed. All better now," he added as he let his hand run down Stiles' own in a gesture of comfort. He smiled softly as he felt the tension start to lessen.

Stiles growled a little, but the sound was half apologetic and half soothing as he nuzzled against the other again. "Sorry."

"No need to be sorry. It was an accident, how are you feeling now?" Derek asked as he let a hand move up to card through the other's short hair. He felt a smile tug on his lips as Stiles leaned into the touch with his eyes half shut.

"Better," Stiles replied honestly as he sat up, unintentionally straddling Derek in the process. His eyes had started to clear as he waited. His skin tone seemed paler than usual, but his overall mental state seemed to be much better. "I think I'm back to my ... current normal," he offered as he tried to take in his whole well-being.

"That's good to hear," Derek replied with a happy sigh. He let the feeling of relief wash over him as Stiles let his weight settle onto Derek's chest.

"I'm just glad that's over with," Stiles murmured, exhausted after the pain that had wracked his body just a few minutes prior. "That sucked so much. Like really bad food poisoning."

"So, I think we should have you take a few days off from testing out anything new that Deaton manages to cook up. Let your body recover to it's current normal. I've never had food poisoning. Just Wolfsbane poisoning," Derek replied with a tired shrug.

Stiles shook his head with a small chuckle. "I remember that. It was one of the first times I ever spent time with you."

Derek merely laughed quietly.

TBC ...


	10. Chapter 9

"Stiles!" Derek screamed as he fought his way through the waves of zombies that threatened to overwhelm their group. But his panic was making it difficult to calm himself. His wolf howled for his Mate as soon as the other disappeared from sight. He'd heard the other man's war cry as he'd knocked a few zombies back before he was pulled away.

"Where's Stiles?" Scott asked as he broke through the throng and panted. He was coated in things he'd rather not think about.

"I don't know," Derek growled as he crushed the skull of a rotting zombie that was trying to bite him. He flicked the gore off his hands as he turned to the Alpha. "He was pulled away from me," he snarled temper flaring as they fought to make a bit of space around them.

"We'll find him," Scott assured his fellow werewolf. "He's a survivor."

"But we have to get through this mess first," Derek growled as his eyes glowed brightly.

Scott didn't say anything in reply as he let out a roar of encouragement to the whole Pack before knocking several zombies backward. One of them impaled it's head and stopped moving but was quickly replaced by another. Snarling and spitting and reaching with claw shaped human hands.

The fight was terrible, bloody, exhausting and lasted for hours before the horde had either been turned away or lay with a smashed in head. The Pack regrouped, panting and leaning against each other. They tried to take stock of each other.

"Did we lose anyone?" Scott asked, panting as several long gashes slowly healed along his side. His eyes scanned over the assembled group and tried to see through the grime.

"Stiles is missing," Lydia said after a few moments. She straightened her posture and had taken a moment to push her hair back into some semblance of order. Partly for herself and partly for those around her. Her calm appearance and togetherness did seem to be helping her friends. "So is Allison, Jordan, and Kira. They could be on the other side of town or ... I don't know. My power can't really ... it's confused by the undead around us. I didn't feel a scream, but I'm not feeling like we have nothing to worry about. It's almost like a scream is coming, but like there isn't one. It's been like that for a few days," she offered with a small, uncertain shrug of her shoulder. She hugged herself, feeling cold and unsure of herself and her abilities.

"Okay, anyone notice anyone else missing?" Scott asked as he tried to make himself look like he was okay with everything. He stood taller, trying to portray the strong Alpha that he was supposed to be.

"Nobody has seen the Sheriff," Liam offered, voice quiet as he held his side.

"I'm here!" the Sheriff's rough voice called out from a short distance away. He was holding his side but it merely looked like he was dirty and bruised rather than bleeding. He held a shotgun in one hand while his free arm was wrapped around Jordan's shoulder. "Has anyone seen my son?"

Scott pursed his lips together, unwilling to say anything just yet. Hopeful that his best friend would come limping back into view and complaining about them leaving the 'fragile human' behind to fend for himself. He had faith that the other would be able to make it back to them. He had a pretty good habit of making it back. Usually in one piece. For his Dad and for Derek.

"We haven't found him yet," Lydia replied. She gave Jordan a small smile, happy that he was alright but unhappy that one of their friends was missing.

"I'm sure we'll be able to find him, or where he went if we look after we regroup. What about you guys? Are you okay? And can't you smell him?" the Sheriff asked as he rested against a nearby car with a greatful sigh.

"I can't smell anything but the zombies," Scott admitted quietly, feeling slightly ashamed that he couldn't pick out his best-friend; brother's, scent from the mayhem.

"Don't feel bad," Derek offered, still tense with the thought of not seeing Stiles anytime soon. His fangs had receded but his claws were still out, ready for a fight it it should come to that. "I can't barely smell the rest of you. It wounldn't take much in this muck to cover up someone's scent. If he even caved one zombie's head in and got it on himself, it would be nearly impossible to track him over the smell of rot and decay."

Scott sighed in frustration as he ran a hand; filthy as it was, through his hair in an effort to soothe himself. "I just with i knew where he was. And Allison. They aren't immune to the bite of a zombie."

"That's true. But at least we found out that a scratch won't turn you. Only the saliva or the blood of a freshly killed zombie," Jordan replied as he scanned the area around them for signs of the undead coming back for another round. "We should probably head indoors and establish a base before we do much else. We need food, safety and a plan."

The group turned as the sound of someone or something approaching caught their attention. They readied guns and claws in preparation for a possible attack.

"Hello, everyone," Deaton called as he came into view looking a little worse for the wear.

"Thank god it's you," the Sheriff breathed as he holstered his gun again.

"I wish I had good news," Deaton replied as his hand tightened on a piece of cloth. "I found this... I believe it belongs to Stiles."

Derek's eyes locked onto the red fabric that was soaked through with a darker red. He moved slowly as though his body was no longer under his control. He reached out with one shaking hand and took the fabric from the Druid. A trembling sniff of the fabric confirmed his worst fears. "Stiles..." he whined as his legs collapsed under him and sent him to the pavement with a painful thud before he tipped his head back in a mournful howl.

TBC ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be trying to update this every 2 weeks until everything is posted. Sorry for the delay. I had some writer's block and now I'm working on polishing this up. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> **I was asked so I'm making a note here: this is a Flashback. Showing where the whole mess started. Sorry if that wasn't as obvious as I'd hoped it would be! There will be more chapters like this so be on the lookout**


	11. Chapter 10

Derek and Stiles sat outside on the porch of the Safe House, Home Fort, whatever the rest of the Pack had decided to call it that week. But they had decided to enjoy the fresh air and open skies after being inside for the better part of three days. They'd decided to take Derek's advice and relax for a few days before trying any new versions of Deaton's attempts at a cure.

"You know... I always hoped for days like this. Maybe not when I was quite this young. But it's nice," Stiles said after a few moments of companionable silence. He sighed heavily as he looked at his pale hand on top of Derek's tanned one. "I was hoping to grow old with you. In a house of our own. Maybe with some kids we'd adopted?"

Derek shook his head as he rolled his hand over to hold Stiles' hand more firmly, warmth flowing from the wolf to the undead. "I'll stay with you for the rest of my life. And we don't have any proof that the virus has stopped your aging. You could age like normal."

"Except for my very specialized diet," Stiles retored with a snort.

"We'll figure something out. We always do," Derek replied as he nuzzled into the younger man's shoulder and took a moment to enjoy the other's scent. "And if it comes down to it... I would be fine with feeding you and taking care of you for the rest of my life."

"That's a great sentiment and all... but I don't want to have to rely on that forever," Stiles replied with a sigh of resignation. He let his head rest against Derek's, his currently enhanced senses seemed soothed by the older man's presence. "It makes me feel like I'm using you. And I know that it hurts. I don't care how fast you can heal. You still feel pain."

"I'm not saying that's our end goal. Me feeding you for the rest of your life. Just ... something I've come to accept. It wasn't easy, and I'd rather avoid it if possible. I'm not exactly a fan of the pain either. But for now, I'm okay with it," Derek countered as he rubbed his jaw against Stiles' head to soothe him further. Scenting was one of his favorite past times and he hadn't stopped when Stiles had come back to them as a member of the undead.

Stiles sighed softly as he enjoyed the moment before deciding that he had to break it again. "But if it ever comes down to it... and I'm a danger to either you or my dad... or one of the Pack... Have me put down," Stiles insisted with a heavy sigh. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Any more than I have to hurt you. And I really hate doing that. For the record. I want that written down somewhere. 'Stiles hates being dead. And hates having to hurt his loved ones.' In big ones."

Derek merely shook his head for a second before he made and affirmative sound. He just let Stiles' presence soothe him, unwilling to voice what would happen to Derek if Stiles was 'put down' in front of him. That was a conversation they might have some other day. But today was a day for being greatful and happy to have each other. They had plans to spend the day just being and not worrying about tomorrow or anything else for that matter. They would just act like nothing had happened yet. Be their version of normal for a little while longer. Denial was their friend for the moment.

The sun continued to set before a noise alerted them to the presence of one of the others. Probably with a comment to come inside for the night. They liked to keep the house as dark as possible from the outside to keep from drawing unwanted attention to themselves. It was always better to avoid trouble than have to deal with it.

TBC...


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the mix up. Somehow I managed to post the wrong chapter. *hangs head in shame* But I've fixed it! Sorry about that!

"Guys, I'm serious! We have to get back out there and look for them," Scott huffed, a slight growl in his voice as he threw his arms in the air in exasperation. "Allison and Stiles are still missing. And we've moved from the original safe house we'd been using. They're not going to know where to find us!"

"Scott, we have to be reasonable," Chris countered as he moved to put a cautious hand on Scott's shoulder in an effort to soothe the young man. His face was worn and tired, the hunter looked almost twice his age and felt even worse.

Scott shrugged away from the offer of comfort. "I am being reasonable. They're two of the most likely to survive!"

"How do you figure?" Parrish asked, he held up his hands as the sound of a growl from both Derek and Scott. "I don't mean to make anyone upset. I know that Allison is a trained Hunter. But it's only been against supernatural creatures. And only a few years. And Stiles isn't really the 'outdoors' kind of kid."

Derek suppressed a growl as he took a small step closer, hands curled like he wanted to bring his claws to bear on the man before him. "Stiles is a lot smarter than you give him credit for. And he's a lot stronger than any of you realize. Just because you have supernatural abilities... you forget that some humans can be almost as strong. And they often look for ways around a problem, rather than crashing through a problem headfirst."

"Besides," Scott added, taking a step before Derek. "Stiles has been preparing for a zombie apocalypse sine the first time he saw a zombie movie. Mostly as a joke, but after the CDC released that paper about that being a good idea he took that to heart. He started prepping more and more. He was pretty ready. Either with his gear or without. And he'd saved our asses more times than I'm really comfortable admitting. He's only human and he's still impressing us with his ability to come through."

"I'm sorry," Parrish replied, hands up in surrender. "I was just trying to get an idea of how they would handle it. I didn't mean to offend. I was just ... it's not a situation most people would ever think of. But they're not most people. None of you are like most people. I'm sorry that I forget that sometimes." He gave a self deprecating laugh. "I'm still new to all this supernatural stuff."

Derek seemed to deflate a bit as he stepped back, letting the others discuss what they wanted. His eyes were downcast as he moved towards a window. He keenly felt the absence of Stiles, but his wolf had yet to mourn the loss of their Mate. Just his closeness. He didn't know how to phrase it when he thought about Stiles being missing but he; Derek, somehow knew that Stiles was still alive in some form or fashion. His wolf could tell that he was alive. But he had no idea how to use that knowledge to find the younger man.

A hand on his shoulder startled Derek out of his inward contemplation, his head came up to see who was trying to get his attention. He was both surprised and not by the fact that it was the Sheriff looking at him with a knowing look. He didn't say anything as he looked into the eyes of the father that stood before him.

Derek shook his head as he looked out the window again before turning back to the Sheriff and leaning into the man. He let the other offer him a quick, comforting hug. "We'll find him," the Sheriff promised. "One way or another. We'll know what happened to Stiles. And we'll bring him home."

"He's not dead," Derek replied as he stepped back but not away from the hand on his shoulder. He was still drawing strength and comfort from it. And the Sheriff's scent was part of Stiles' own scent, which made Derek's frayed nerves feel just a little bit soothed.

"I want to believe that too," the Sheriff started to reply, the regret and pain in the older man's eyes almost kept Derek from saying more.

"I know that he's not dead," Derek replied, voice hard as he looked into the other's blue eyes. Certainty clear in his eyes as he spoke. "I know he's not because I can feel him. We're connected. I don't know how much he told you about Mates when it comes to Werewolves, but it's a very serious thing. It means that we're connected for life. If one of us dies ... the other isn't going to be far behind. The wolf will pine to death. A human can sometimes break the bond postmortem. It's not common or easy, but it has happened in the past. No wolf could survive that kind of thing. The point is that I can still feel Stiles connected to me. I can't tell where or what kind of shape he's in. I wish it was more than 'dead or not dead' but that's all the connection can give me. I wish it could give me more, but we've only been Bonded a short time and Stiles' Spark hasn't been trained much. In time we could have a better connection that was more useful, but right now... this is what we have." He sighed, feeling a little relieved at having someone else know. At the same time he worried that the information might not make the older man feel any better.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," the Sheriff replied quietly. Emotion flickered over his face quickly as he tried to reign himself in. "I know you were probably worried that this might bother me or make me unhappy. But it makes me feel a little better. Not a lot. I mean, my son is still out in the middle of a zombie Apocalypse, but he's alive. And we have to take what hope we can get, when we can. Right?"

Derek nodded, words lost to him for the moment at the other's open relief and honesty. He didn't want to break the moment they were having.

TBC...


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Things have been a little crazy here. Snowmageddon hasn't helped much. Have to keep digging to keep the car clear. Hope you enjoy!

Stiles shivered from more than the cold of the fall night, but from fear. Fear of the undead that had him surrounded. He wasn't sure if he was going to be able to find a way out of the situation he'd found himself in. He hoped that Derek and the others would be okay. He felt bad for his father, if Stiles didn't make it his father wouldn't be able to handle it. Not that he was planning on giving up any time soon, but those kinds of thoughts found their way through whether you wanted them to or not.

Striking up his courage, Stiles poked his head out from his place of cover to see how bad the situation had become.

It was very, very bad. He was completely surrounded by the undead. The dead bodies around him; which stank and made him want to vomit, were probably covering up his scent. But it wouldn't last forever. He'd have to figure something out. Sooner, rather than later. He just didn't know how he was going to make the move that would save his life.

Sleep pulled at the young man's body. He was tired, and hungry, and thirsty. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since before he'd been separated from his group. His body needed rest but he couldn't afford it. He had to find a better place to hide before making his way back to the others.

To Derek.

Maybe he'd be lucky and the mass of undead would leave without finding him. He could hope, but not really bank on that particular fantasy. His body had needs. Needs that he was going to have to take care of soon.

Stiles' hands shook as he watched the group move past him, the main mass of undead seemed to be drawn away from him position. He felt a hint of relief, but kept his eyes open. It would only take one making that horrible gurgling, growling noise that meant they were about to feed, to draw more in his direction. He rose up onto his toes and prepared to run as quietly as he could in the opposite direction from the group before circling around to head for the Safe House. The Argent's had a pretty nice step for the end of the world at their house. He'd aim for there since that's where the others likely were. All he had to do was avoid the undead and get there. Without getting killed or bitten.

A shudder moved through the young man's lithe frame at the thought of making it back to his family only to find out that he'd been bitten and be lost to them within a few days. He hated the thought that it could happen. And they would have to put him down because he was too willing to fight to survive, and he wouldn't be able to do it to himself. The thought of even trying made him shiver with irritation and emotion.

"Come on, Stiles. You can do this. Just visualize it," Stiles murmured to himself, barely loud enough for him to hear over his own breathing. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself before he opened them and took off. His sneakers barely made any noise as he quickly crossed the darkened asphalt towards a darkened house. He hadn't seen any of the undead move towards or into it and figured his best chance lay where he might be able to bar the entrance. Maybe get a few hours of sleep so that he could take care of other needs once his mind was a little sharper.

Stiles kept his body low to the ground, hoping to avoid detection and keep from leaving too much of his scent in the open air. Closer to the ground it smelled bad, like burnt rubber and decay. He just prayed that it would be enough to keep his own smell under control. He made it to the broken down door; covered in things he'd rather not think about, and slipped inside. The house was dark but that was to be expected. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust before moving to employ some chairs and plates to make some noise if something tried to follow him inside. It wouldn't be much, but it should be enough with as ramped up as his nerves were. He moved further, snagging what looked to be an unopened bottle of water with a grateful smile towards the heavens, and kept his eyes moving for any sign of danger. He made it through the first level of the house without finding anything that would make a viable weapon, or anyone for that matter.

The second floor yielded nearly the same results, except for a wooden baseball bat. He grinned, feeling like his luck had taken a turn for the slightly better. It was good to be armed again and he checked the bat briefly, finding it to be in one piece. He picked a room with a window and checked it before closing the door quietly and making a barricade with the sparse furniture in the room. A small table, a chair, and some boxes. It looked like whoever had been living in the house before the outbreak had just moved in. Stiles felt a pang of sympathy as he moved things, careful to keep from looking at anything particular. He really didn't want to know more about people he had never met and likely would never meet. The likelihood that they were dead was too high for him to let himself get involved. He would be careful with their stuff and leave when he could. He found some pillows and a blanket and curled against the barricade, knowing that sleep would come, and hoping that the undead would not.

Stiles was asleep within a few seconds of laying down.

When the sun broke over the hills, the undead broke into the house snarling and clawing for flesh.

TBC ...


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait on getting this out! I had to go back and find the correct chapter 11 and fix that up. But things are going more smoothly now. Hope you're all still enjoying the story!

Derek leaned into Stiles' side as they prepared to try another one of Deaton's cures. It didn't set off Stiles' stomach or nose right away, and didn't look too intimidating.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to." Derek said, interrupting the relative silence of the room as all three men had been staring at the vial in Stiles' hand. "It's up to you." He felt like the words weren't enough to convey just how he felt about the whole issue, but he hoped that Stiles knew how he felt.

Stiles gave the wolf a lopsided smile and nudged him with one shoulder. "I know that ... I volunteered."

"That does not mean you have to try every batch," Deaton countered quietly, voice soft as he watched the young man before him for any sign that he was thinking twice about their arrangement. He noted a fine tremble in the long, nimble fingers but steely determination in the honey colored eyes.

"I know that, and I appreciate the sentiment, Doc," Stiles replied before looking up at Deaton for a moment. He looked back at the vial in his hand before locking eyes with Derek again. "Remember, this is for everybody. And I want to do my part. I'd like to be with you again. Human."

"I don't care how you are. As long as you're Stiles," Derek countered. "But this is your choice. And I'll stay by your side through anything." He didn't break his gaze with Stiles as the other lifted the vial to his lips.

"Bottoms up then," Stiles declared before he tossed the whole vial back and swallowed hard. He winced as it seemed to burn it's way down his throat and down to his stomach. He gritted his teeth as the pain flared out from his midsection and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he bent double. He probably would have fallen to the floor if Derek hadn't caught him at the last minute and held him close.

"Stiles?" Derek asked, voice high and worried with a slight whine at the end of the question. His wolf whined in the back of his mind as he held his mate, wishing he could keep this pain from him. He slowly moved them to the ground to rest against a nearby wall. "Stiles?"

Stiles shook his head, eyes closed tightly against the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. He breathed heavily as he fought his body and instincts. He wanted to lash out or cry out in pain, but refused to do either. He didn't want to make Derek any more worried than he already was, so Stiles figured he could endure this pain. He'd seen Derek endure much worse, and more frequently. He didn't want to bring Derek any more distress by seeing Stiles in pain.

"You can squeeze my hand if it helps. Anything you need. Just tell me how I can help," Derek murmured, voice soft as he held his Mate close, hoping that the comforting warmth would help in some way.

Stiles shook his head again as sweat beaded on his forehead and his vision grew spotty. He felt like he was on the edge of passing out, but also like he was about to breath though the pain and come out on the other side of it at any moment. "I'm fine," he managed through clenched teeth as his hand spasmed harshly around Derek's hand, unconsciously. "You're fine. Great. Mine."

Derek nuzzled Stiles gently, content to simply be there for his Mate. Even if all he could do was offer soothing words and his presence.

"Stiles?" Deaton asked after several moments of silence. "Are you alright?"

Stiles gave a short growl as the blackness that was swarming his vision threatened to pull him under. The sound wasn't really aggressive, or defensive sounding. It was almost a growl of acknowledgement more than anything else.

Deaton backed away a few steps, uncertain as to what Stiles reaction was going to be once the medicine finished it's work in the young man. If it would leave him in a near feral state again. He didn't want him to feel like the Druid was encroaching on his territory or Mate if that was the case. But he did want to be close by if the cure actually worked. Even if it was painful, it would be well worth it if they could cure people of the zombie infection.

Stiles' groans and grunts of pain finally stopped and he opened his eyes slowly, almost like he didn't trust the lack of pain. He gave a small smile to Derek just before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped down, unconscious.

"Stiles!" Derek cried out, face panicked as he caught the other.

TBC ...


	15. Chapter 14

Stiles looked down at his side in dismay, unable to fully comprehend was he was seeing.

It wasn't that he didn't actually know what had happened. But the thought of what it meant was almost too much for him to bear. He'd been so careful! So cautious to make sure that he was safe and that he could make it back to Derek and his father.

Long trembling fingers reached out and numbly fingered the injury, making Stiles wince and suck in a breath of pain as he stared at the bite. A Bite. With capital letters and everything.

A tear escaped his eyes as he took a shuddering breath. The Bite always turned or killed. Whether it was the Bite from an Alpha werewolf or a crazed zombie. It either killed you, or it made you one of them. And at that moment Stiles wished with all his heart that he had accepted the Bite before now. Hell, he might not even be in this mess if he'd been made into a werewolf. He might have been able to fight his way out and wouldn't have been on his own for so long. It was a futile wish and he knew that it wasn't going to help him in the long run, but he couldn't help but wish that things could have been different.

"No use in just sitting around moping," Stiles murmured to himself as he stood and brushed the dirt from his clothes and tried to ignore the Bite on his side. The pain was still there, but muted. He figured it was either shock or the virus making it so that he wouldn't notice the injury. Either way, he didn't have anything to clean it with. Or cure it. He was really wishing for a cure as well, but that was nothing more than another pipe dream. He shook himself as he made his way to his feet and snagged his bat. "At least I can take a few of them out with me before I become one of them. Maybe I can make it back to the others and they will have found something... maybe..." He tried to give himself confidence he wasn't feeling. To be honest he was tired, hungry and exhausted. And he was getting more of those all the time. He hadn't been able to find clean water, unspoiled food, or a good place to rest.

Rest was what had landed him the Bite in the first place. Apparently zombies could be rather stealthy when they weren't actively hunting. When they were simply moving from one location to another they could be surprisingly quiet. And one had made it's way through a door Stiles hadn't noticed in his hiding place. The zombie had almost made it out the window when the it had literally stumbled over Stiles, but he'd awoken and tried for the window. Almost made it before he'd been snagged and pulled backwards. The groping hands and managed to pull him back just long enough for the undead beast to sink it's teeth into him before he managed to pull free and escape onto the roof of a nearby house.

Stiles hadn't stopped running for nearly thirty minutes. Moving as quietly as he could from house to house. He was fairly certain he'd managed to lose his tail, but the fact remained that he was now going to die or become a zombie. And with no cure he'd be a danger to his loved ones.

A howl broke Stiles from his mental catalogue of things that were going wrong in his life. He couldn't think like that. He had to fine Derek. If he died... the born wolf would probably lose his mind. He had to hold on for the older man. Try to make his way to the others. Even if they had to kill him when he turned. He had to make it back. No matter the cost.

Stiles made sure the room was secure before dropping into a meditative pose and to rest up and get his thoughts in order. He had a lot of hard work to do if he was going to make it to the others before the Bite finished him off. Three days at the most. Though that was never a guarantee.

TBC . . .


End file.
